


i want my fucking dog back

by grizzlysnare



Category: Gentleman Jack (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, F/F, Hurt/Comfort, Mild Smut, Post-Break Up, Trans Character, Useless Lesbians, anne is kind of problematic but she's trying, because enby lesbianism is sexy and cool, implied nonbinary anne
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-18
Updated: 2020-04-26
Packaged: 2021-02-28 20:00:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,486
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23202868
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/grizzlysnare/pseuds/grizzlysnare
Summary: anne is struggling after a relationship of almost 10 years completely crashes and burns. her dog is essentially being used as a bargaining tool for the breakup and she suspects she's developing somewhat of an alcohol problem.when she gets a sudden friend request from an old student on her way to work, she realises that, just maybe, things might be starting to look up.
Relationships: Anne Lister (1791-1840)/Ann Walker (1803-1854)
Comments: 40
Kudos: 94





	1. lonely sunday afternoons

**Author's Note:**

> 'The name jolted Anne, to say the least, but when she saw the girl at the door fluster, then half run to  
> the group, she realised that they must share a name. That wasn’t really surprising, the name wasn’t  
> uncommon, she supposed.'

Head resting on the bar top, Anne wasn’t quite drunk – despite her melodramatic appearance, she had the sense to not get pissed mid afternoon on Sunday. She was just miserable, _and rightfully so_ , she thought. It was the end of a breakup that had spanned over about a week – the whole ordeal far too emotional and long winded for her. 

“Um, Miss Lister?”

The voice coming from behind the bar made her raise up, looking at the timid young bartender without properly toning down her expression. His name was Thomas Sowden, she had taught him biology for a few years in high school, and then left the profession of teaching altogether. It was a waste of a PhD, just serving as a reminder of how she had very little patience for anyone, let alone stupid teenagers. Although Thomas was one of the better memories – she vaguely remembered him having to move just before she left. Put into foster care. Uprooted, much like herself at that age.

In the present, however, he visibly recoiled at her glare, glancing away and fiddling with the tea towel in his hands. Anne made an effort to sit up, making it clear that she wasn’t inebriated enough to be kicked out.

“Not drunk, Thomas. Just tired,” She said curtly, reaching for her glass.

Thomas was about to say a bit more, but then the door opened, and it was someone other than the usual Sunday drinkers. When Anne turned, she saw that this, for lack of a better word, gaggle – all looked very young. Probably just students on a weekend of binging alcohol. Nothing too interesting. She was about to look away, when she caught the eye of someone lagging quite a bit behind the rest of her friends.

It was obvious this girl had been staring, but her face didn’t make it obvious as to why. Usually Anne had a pretty good idea when it came to other women, but she couldn’t work this one out. Maybe she _had_ drank a bit too much. 

“Ann, are you coming in or not?”

“Yeah, babes, come on!”

The name jolted Anne, to say the least, but when she saw the girl at the door fluster, then half run to the group, she realised that they must share a name. That wasn’t really surprising, the name wasn’t uncommon, she supposed. Anne could have sworn blind she recognised the... _other Anne (or maybe Ann)_. 

When Thomas turned round, all smiles and charm as he greeted the group, Anne felt self conscious for the first time in years. She figured it was because the sudden presence of youth in the room made her realise how sad she looked, drinking alone in the afternoon. She kept catching the blonde girl sneaking looks at her, even when she and her friends went to a table in the corner.

“Mm. Thomas, how much do I owe you?” Anne half grunted, standing up from the bar stool. 

“Oh, um... don’t worry about it, Miss Lister. I- forgive me for saying, but you look like you’re going through a rough patch.” 

Anne tilted her head, deciding on whether to take offense or not. She decided against it, she was too exhausted to actually put effort into being offended today. 

“That’s certainly one way of putting it. _However_ , this, as everything, is temporary. Things become even more temporary when you’re under the influence of alcohol.”

She saw Thomas wince a little bit – she wasn’t all too sure why, nor was she too sure if she felt any remorse for whatever emotion the comment must have brought up. 

The only thing on her mind as she walked home was the blonde girl. The meek thing was entirely captivating when she thought about her more thoroughly.


	2. a gay bar in norwich?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 'But of course, she couldn’t just get up and get on with the rest of her evening, oh no, that would be far too convenient.'

It'd been a long day at work, which was why Anne was laid in bed, a hand resting on the front of her trousers. The tinny speakers of her MacBook blared on her left side, the two actresses on screen going for one more round. She always felt a little bad for masturbating to porn – she knew how cutthroat the industry was, but then, most industries were. 

When she came back to her senses a little more (her post orgasm bliss never lasted that long), she closed the lid of the laptop with a sigh, wiping her right hand on the sheets afterwards. It was rare that she actually touched herself directly, usually she would grind against something or other similar actions. Touching could very easily make her uncomfortable, even from her own hand. 

She needed a drink. She often needed a drink now that her and Mariana had been through all that absolute _shite_.

But of course, she couldn’t just get up and get on with the rest of her evening, oh no, that would be _far_ too convenient. Anne’s phone rang on the bedside table. Speak of the devil. The phone screen only read a number, but it was definitely Mariana's. She only deleted her contact yesterday.

Despite every sensible bone in her body telling her not to, Anne picked up.

_"What?"_

“Fred. You sound awful.”

Even through the slightly softening filter of a mobile microphone, Mariana's tone still managed to be utterly unbearable.

“Why did you call me?”

“I’m keeping Argus.”

They both said their parts in quick succession, but the next reply on Anne’s behalf lagged behind after that particular bombshell. On the one hand, it made sense. Mariana had bought Argus with her own money, and insured him. On the other, Anne could only ever really remember training him herself – he always seemed to prefer her. She could be being biased, but that didn’t matter.

“The _hell_ you are! He’s my fucking dog... too.”

Mariana hung up before she could finish her sentence (or rather, start her tirade). Great. Fantastic. Surely she wasn’t being serious? It was probably just some sort of stupid plot to elongate the process of the two actually talking to each other more than necessary. 

That, or she _was_ keeping Argus. 

“For fuck’s sake. Christ almighty.” Anne rolled out of her bed, standing up and straightening her shirt, still mumbling to herself as she went downstairs and into the kitchen to pour a drink. 

As she sat and slowly got drunk on her own, Anne found herself thinking more than she had done in a while, specifically about the past. She was very much a person who tried to focus on the future at the best of times, but could allow herself to wallow in sadness a little bit. 

Her and Mariana had met in a gay bar in Norwich, of all cities. Not exactly the most romantic place in the UK, but it could have been worse. The two got completely shitfaced with each other, then crashed in the same bed in a nearby Premier Inn. Anne couldn’t bring herself to remember why she was even in Norwich for that night – possibly for some kind of work trip, possibly just because she was bored and wanted to go down South for a while. _In both senses of the word_ , she thought, grinning at herself.

The two had exchanged numbers in the morning before both of them set off. It was a bit of a laugh, after all. In retrospect, Anne didn’t think either of them anticipated anything would actually come of it. Of course, that lack of anticipation was misguided. One off texts every so often turned into short conversations. Short conversations turned into exchanging email addresses instead, so they wouldn’t have to worry about a character limit. Emails turned to Anne being woken up in the middle of the night on more than one occasion by the horrific ‘Hello Moto' ringtone of her old (but, at the time, very new) RAZR, but quickly forgetting about it when she heard the soft voice on the other end of the line. 

They started meeting from time to time, then staying at each other’s houses. They’d ended up falling into a relationship that didn’t need labels, or clarifying. It was clear to the both of them what they were, why they were and how they were.

The trouble started, Anne supposed, when they moved in together at last after four or five years. Moving in with each other meant they suddenly had to find words for the relationship that they simply didn’t use before – it meant they had sudden expectations placed on them; not just by other people, but by themselves. 

Anne was jolted out of her own mind by her phone buzzing on the table. Not a call, just a notification, more specifically it was one from Facebook. Someone had sent her a friend request. 

_Ann Walker._

Where had she heard that name from before? The profile picture was just a photo of some flowers, and the account itself was private. Anne’s finger hovered over the accept button. 

Instead of pressing down, she set the phone back onto the table. If she was going to do anything on social media, even if it was just accepting friend requests, she’d do it when she hadn’t gotten accidentally drunk mid-evening. 

The name _was_ familiar, though. Overly so. She’d figure it out eventually, or something. 

_She always did._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm sorry i'm taking so long to update! i really don't wanna end up abandoning this fic like my other multi chapter stuff, so i've actually been thinking about what to write rather than just... word vomiting anything i feel like. i'm also quite ill at the minute (with all things considered, i think i'm right to be a little frightened lol) so actually getting down my ideas is another challenge within itself.
> 
> anyway, i did it, so yay to me? i also need to fix the formatting on the previous chapter because for whatever reason, it's all fucked up. hm


	3. the name rings a bell

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 'For some reason, Anne’s mind flitted back to the friend request. To the name Ann Walker. Ann Walker. She squinted into space, eyebrows furrowed, hands gripped tight onto the steering wheel.'

Anne woke up the next morning feeling absolutely foul. 

If she thought her bladder didn’t agree with how much she’d been drinking lately, her stomach was suddenly _completely_ opposed to it. She spent the first few minutes of wakefulness (after practically falling out of bed) throwing up in the en-suite bathroom, breathing ragged and whole body sweating. Anne tried not to think too hard about how there was no one at home to hold her hair back when she threw up anymore. When it was finally over, she sat on the tiled floor after flushing it all away, catching her breath, then putting her head in her hands with a groan. A shower was definitely in order. That and a very thorough tooth brushing.

She left the bathroom after both of those activities in nothing but a towel (even that was only around her waist), wet hair draped ungraciously over her shoulder. Anne was entirely planning of just going around the house that way until she had to leave for work, but then she caught sight of herself in the bedroom mirror. She scowled at herself, not making the connection between the person she felt like and the person in the mirror. _Fucking hell_ , she needed to put a shirt on – needed to cover up. 

Coming back to the mirror fully dressed (even if her hair was still wet, it tended to dry quickly on its own, she was never sure why), Anne looked over herself again. Tucked her shirt into her trousers more tightly. Turned to look at herself from the side – everything was finally flat enough for her not to fret about it. Good. _Great_. She grabbed her phone and went downstairs, ignoring a call from Marian on the way into the kitchen, as always. The notification from last night popped up again, making her falter slightly as she poured an instant coffee sachet into her mug. Something about that name was so infuriatingly familiar. 

Swiping her thumb across it, Anne deleted the notification once more. She didn’t want to decline the request outright, but she wouldn’t accept it until she figured out why she knew the name. When she flicked the kettle on, Marian called her again. Then texted her. Then called her.

Anne gave in, picking up.

“Oh, so you _were_ just ignoring me. How nice,”

“Good morning to you too, Marian! Lovely day, isn’t it?” Anne spoke with very sarcastic cheer. She was aware she probably sounded about as hungover as she actually was.

“I need to know if you’re free. I wanted to invite you to dinner on Thursday.” Marian sounded slightly guarded all of a sudden. Well, more guarded than usual.

“I might be free. Why do you want to invite me? You never want to invite me anywhere.” Anne cursed quietly as she filled the mug with hot water – somehow she’d managed to scale herself slightly on one finger. She’d probably deal with it after the call.

“I wanted to invite you because... are you okay?”

“I’m always okay. I just burned myself a little bit. _Why did you want to invite me_?”

“I’m having someone round,”

“Oh?”

“Someone I met a little while ago. I haven’t had the chance to introduce you two yet, not that I’d imagine you’d lose sleep over that,”

“Mm, probably not.” She stupidly decided to sip her coffee, ending up with a burnt tongue _and_ a scalded finger. “But you never know, I might surprise you. I might actually be interested in this... _person_ you’ve acquired,”

“I doubt it, he-"

“Oh, a man. How boring. You _were_ right, Marian. I’m not interested,”

_“Grow up,_ Anne. Must you make _everything_ about that?”

Before Anne could make some sort of sly remark back at her sister, she hung up. Anne decided she definitely wasn’t free on Thursday, and would endeavour to make any kind of plan that night as to save herself from having to interact with a man. A man that Marian fancied, no less. The idea was doomed from the beginning. Maybe she was being immature, but she felt it was kind of justified, given how her life had been going recently. She knew Marian wouldn’t take it to heart.

Finishing her coffee after letting it cool, then getting all of her things in order, Anne left the house and unlocked her car, ready for work. It hit her that she was about to work for eight hours with an awful hangover. Whatever, she could deal with it. She’d been to work in much worse states than this before. 

* * *

Of course there had to be a traffic jam. _Nothing_ on the road was moving. Presumably there had been an accident, or something else disruptive enough to bring most of the city roads to a standstill. Anne tried to focus on the radio drama that was playing over the car horns and people yelling out of the windows at each other. There was some kind of party scene, some girl had drunk too much and her friends were debating calling an ambulance, or something. 

For some reason, Anne’s mind flitted back to the friend request. To the name Ann Walker. _Ann Walker_. She squinted into space, eyebrows furrowed, hands gripped tight onto the steering wheel.

_Ann Walker?_

The girl in the radio drama threw up. Her friends panicked.

_Oh._

_Ann Walker._

The memory suddenly hit Anne like a train. She did know the name from somewhere. It was her first few years of teaching – she had started out at a sixth form, taking over the lessons of a biology teacher who had some personal issues to deal with. She remembered it being challenging, as these were a mixture of students completing their second (and last) year of education, and some completing their third for various reasons. Those reasons ranged from not taking their study seriously enough the year before, therefore being disappointed by results, to major life events meaning retaking the year was offered to them by the school.

The name Ann Walker belonged to an anxious mess of a girl who was in one of the classes she taught. Her reasons for retaking the year were never disclosed to Anne by senior leadership, but she could take a good guess that it was to do with mental health. Ann didn’t have many friends, and she hardly spoke to anyone from what Anne saw. Always shy, would never speak in front of the class unless absolutely forced to, her test papers always full of tiny drawings and sketches, but never really full of any content. Anne remembered asking her one day if she actually wanted to study the subject. Ann had burst into tears and was inconsolable until the end of the day.

The last time the two had seen each other was strange. Unlike most places, the school had both a year eleven prom and a sixth form prom. Anne has distinct memories of that night, as plenty of the teachers showed up to these things, too. Probably distinct for the reasons many of her fellow staff at the time would think.

She’d vacated herself from the venue to smoke – something she wasn’t officially allowed to do, but it wasn’t as if everyone there wasn’t eighteen or over anyway. On her way to the back where the bins of the place were, she found a not-so-pretty scene of Ann and a friend. The friend was clearly not sober, but was trying to convince an even _less_ sober Ann to go back inside and have a drink of water.

They’d obviously snuck drinks into the place, as no one brought enough alcohol to get _that_ pissed.

When the friend had looked up and spotted Anne, she recognised her as Harriet Parkhill, a second year student with a track record of delinquency. She was surprised that the two were clearly friendly. 

“Is she okay? Seriously. I’m not about to lecture you two, but...”

Anne remembered trailing off as the half collapsed girl stood up and shuffled towards her like a zombie. In hindsight, she should’ve probably just walked away and alerted a first aider, but, as terrible as it sounded, she was bored. She’d agreed with herself that if the girl tried to make an advance on her, she would walk away, but other than that... the situation was fair game. Harriet lingered in the background, clearly too scared of getting in trouble on her last night of seeing most of her peers.

“Ann? Ann, can you hear me?”

“I’ll... _fuckin_ ’ tell y'somethin’, Miss Lister.” Ann pointed at her accusingly, going to say something else, but pausing suddenly. Anne raised her eyebrows, waiting. 

There was heavy silence in the air.

Ann had taken another step forward, half getting the words _‘Miss Lister'_ out of her mouth again before projectile vomiting. Anne belatedly realised that most of it ended up on her suit. 

Anne was roused from her memories by someone behind her sounding their horn; the traffic had finally started to move. 

“Oh. Shit.”

She pushed her foot down on the accelerator, though her thoughts were still racing ahead of her. _Surely it couldn't be the same Ann,_ her mind said, _she wouldn't have any reason to want to contact you now. It's been years._

* * *

Anne eventually came to the end of her journey inside the office carpark. Before she opened the door to leave, she grabbed her phone. 

“Fuck it.”

She opened up the Facebook app, went to her friend requests and accepted the only outstanding one. 

_You and Ann Walker are now friends!_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SO... that was a lot longer than most of the chapters i usually write for.. well, anything. i'm procrastinating other things (studies, because who has the energy for those right now) and also it's almost 4am, so that's probably where all the ideas have come from. apologies if this is completely incoherent rambling. 
> 
> again, thank you for reading. i send you all hugs. only redeemable after this whole lockdown and virus thing is over, though. respect social distancing


	4. late(ish) night chats

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anne took a second to read the message – it seemed to be a combination of alcohol, her slightly worsening vision and Ann’s lack of capital letters that made it difficult to fully understand at first.

The night was going poorly, to say the least. Not only had Anne managed to break _two_ of her fountain pens journaling about an hour prior, she was now having to go through yet another phone call with Mariana. If she was being completely honest with herself, she wasn’t entirely over the other woman. Even if all they did was argue, part of her craved the phone calls, the passive aggressive messages in the middle of the night. Anything that meant they didn’t lose contact.

Anne wasn’t honest with herself though, not very often. She repeated in her head that all she wanted was for the two of them to immediately figure everything out, then completely go their separate ways. 

“I’m not paying to see my own _fucking_ dog!” She hissed, careful not to grip the wine glass in her other hand too forcefully. She’d done it before, it was a painful experience that resulted in an embarrassing trip to the hospital.

“I don’t think you get to decide at this point. Besides, it was only an idea, Fred. You’re being dramatic,”

"I am _not_ being dramatic! You call me at all bloody hours, telling me you want money from me to see my pet!”

“ _My_ pet, actually, Anne. I paid for Argus when we got him, he’s my dog.”

_"Bullshit."_

It _was_ true, though. Argus technically didn’t belong to Anne, seeing as Mariana paid for him and his insurance. That didn’t mean Argus didn’t like her better, though. She cared more for him than her ex girlfriend, that much was for sure – she loved him like a child, almost. 

“Look, this conversation clearly isn’t going anywhere,” 

“No, it isn’t,” Anne practically growled, taking the phone away from her ear and hanging up. She leant back into the sofa cushions, staring at the ceiling with a groan. Every day was getting progressively more shit, it seemed. She seemed to be drinking more often now, not sure if she enjoyed becoming aware of the fact that it seemed she was getting drunk (or at least quite tipsy) every night. The Argus situation was stressful, though. Everything was just _stressful._

Just as she went to reach for the TV remote and switch the channel to the news, her phone buzzed beside her. She knew it wasn’t Mariana again, her messages had a separate vibration pattern to everybody else. The notification was from the Messenger app. Her interest piqued when she saw who had actually sent the message. She read over the name a few times, then opened the message, setting her glass down on the coffee table so she could type with two hands, if need be.

**[Ann Walker, 22:30:** _so im not sure if you remember me but here goes. you were my teacher in sixth form and at prom there was like, an incident. i was very drunk and like?? yikes **]**_

Anne took a second to read the message – it seemed to be a combination of alcohol, her slightly worsening vision and Ann’s lack of capital letters that made it difficult to fully understand at first. She huffed a laugh when she realised that it most definitely was the same Ann. From how the message read, the poor thing probably had that situation on her mind ever since it happened.

**[Anne Lister, 22:34:** _I thought your name sounded familiar. I do remember what happened. That was my best suit._ **]**

The typing icon came up immediately after Anne sent her reply.

**[Ann Walker, 22:34:** _oh god_ **]**

**[Ann Walker, 22:35:** _noo omg_ **]**

**[Ann Walker, 22:35:** _i am literally so sorry for the actions of my 19 year old self_ **]**

**[Anne Lister, 22:40:** _We all have our moments. I'd absolutely be lying if I said I hadn't done more embarrassing things - many without the influence of alcohol, I'm afraid._ **]**

For a moment, Anne couldn’t help but ponder whether it was strange for her to be talking to one of her previous students like this. She didn’t have contact with very many, but even the ones she was close to like Thomas still referred to her very formally. This was all so casual and _sudden_. It did feel oddly natural, though, at least from her point of view. There was flow to the conversation. When Ann didn’t respond as quickly as she had done before, Anne didn’t think too much of it. She couldn’t entirely blame the girl if she was feeling shy, _even if it all happened, what, ten years ago?_

Anne’s attention wasn’t fully on the program she was watching anyway – some Police Interceptors knockoff. They were arrested some stupid kid who thought it would be a good idea to drive high off his face on smack. It was always either drunk drivers or drugged drivers on those types of shows, they hardly ever showed anything interesting. She supposed most of it was likely scripted, anyway.

Her phone lit up with another message which she opened after draining her drink.

**[Ann Walker, 22:55:** _omg sorry i replied so late i got into an argument with a terf in a comment thread but anyway **]**_

**[Ann Walker, 22:56:** _yah i guess ive gotten into more embarrassing situations but idk that one is pretty high up on the list_ **]**

**[Anne Lister, 23:01:** _Good to know that your politics are sound, though, at least in that sense. The Internet brings out the worst in most people, I've_ found. **]**

**[Ann Walker, 23:02:** _oh yah i totally agree_ **]**

**[Ann Walker, 23:02:** _i was gonna say i thought i saw you at a pub on sunday but i was too scared to say anything unless it wasnt you_ **]**

Anne was about to reply saying Ann was wise for not saying anything, as it probably wasn’t her, but then backspaced when the memory of the girl who kept staring came to her. At first, she thought that was completely unlikely. Even as a sixth former, Ann Walker was this scrawny, awkward little thing, looking like she’d fit in more at the high school building instead. Definitely nothing like the blonde who managed to capture Anne’s attention. Surely not? But then, when she thought about it more deeply, there were stark similarities. Namely the face and the expression, as well as the same bright blue eyes.

**[Ann Walker, 23:04:** _uh the name was the hammerhead or something i think_ **]**

The Hammerhead was indeed the name of the bar that Anne spent most of her time miserably drinking in, that Sunday being no exception. So it _was_ her. She supposed that would explain the apparent anxiety of the girl when she caught Anne’s eye. Anne vaguely remembered someone saying the name ‘Ann', too, which _would_ explain things. 

**[Anne Lister, 23:07:** _Yes, now that I think about it, we most likely did see each other. You were with friends, from what I remember._ **]**

**[Ann Walker, 23:08:** _yah i was! ok cool im glad i didnt imagine that or something?? haha_ **]**

The two of them carried on sparse small talk until midnight, which was when Ann said she needed to get some rest, but that she would _really_ like to catch up at some point. Without thinking, Anne agreed. She didn’t expect herself to agree at all, but part of her figured that it would be something to do other than work and feel sorry for herself every day. Something to break up the monotony - there was nothing Anne _hated_ more than monotony.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> another like 2 in the morning chapter from yours truly so apologies if there are mistakes, my fiancee isn't awake so i can't force her to beta this like i might have done otherwise (i say that as if i don't get too self conscious of my writing to show her most of the time before it's posted but.. hey ho)
> 
> my cough has pretty much gone away, but i'm getting just a regular cold now (i seem to almost always have one, so it's nothing new), my lungs never ever give me a break. the joys of asthma!
> 
> but anyways, i hope you guys are all doing as well as you can. stay safe and stay home!!


	5. her laugh

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “It’s fine. I always like people to be punctual. Waiting around for someone is one of the most mundane things on this earth. It’s good to be early, sometimes,”

The pub was uncharacteristically busy for a Sunday evening, Anne eventually figured out that there was a small time band out to play a little later on. Some punkish teenagers probably waiting on the right person to see them perform, but before that person saw them, they were content on getting free drinks and minimal attention before their set, all messy dyed hair, lack of indoor voices and body odour. If she was about twenty years younger, Anne might have known who they were. She might have even been a bit excited. However, there was only one thing she was waiting on as she sat at a table in the corner of the room, ignoring the noise around her.

She glanced over to the door at just the right moment. There was little Ann Walker, unmistakably awkward and shy as she peered around the room, seemingly tiny compared to those around her. When their eyes met, Ann smiled – huge, bright and genuine – as she walked over. 

Anne could have sworn she felt anxious in that moment, even if it was just for a split second. The feeling subsided quickly when her ex-student sat down opposite her. _It would be impossible to be intimidated by this girl,_ she thought, shooting back a grin that made the younger woman avert her eyes.

"You're early,"

“Oh, I know, I’m sorry! I just... I get so nervous if I think I’ll be late to something, especially when I was the one who arranged-"

“It’s fine. I always like people to be punctual. Waiting around for someone is one of the most mundane things on this earth. It’s good to be early, sometimes,” Anne said, glad to get a closer look at Ann than she did the week before. She had _definitely_ changed since sixth form, as most people do, but Anne was struggling to put her finger on exactly _what_ had changed. This was odd, as Anne was usually very perceptive. She would have put it down to the alcohol, but she hadn’t drunk that much before Ann arrived. Something about her face, she decided – the lips, especially, they seemed fuller. Her face, too, was more thinned out than it was when she was a teenager. Something much more feminine had happened to her appearance.

“Oh, um... no, I guess you’re right, actually,” Ann replied, hesitant, voice a little more guarded than before. Anne wondered if she had realised how she was studying her. 

“I try not to make a habit of being wrong, Miss Walker. Not now, or ever.” She grinned, then rolled her shoulders, looking away from the younger woman. “We should get more drinks. Well, I mean, get you your first drink. I’ve already had a few. All on me.”

Once Anne had come back with a drink for Ann (just a Cola, which was fitting, considering her personality) and an alcoholic one for herself, the conversation started to flow a little better.

“So, you’re in university now, I take it? Or maybe you aren’t. Either way, tell me,”

“Well, um... I _was_. I actually dropped out earlier this year. I was at Sh-Sheffield, doing a fine arts degree. It was too much work, though, so I had to leave. Mental health... _stuff_.”

Anne nodded, sympathetic, but not completely able to empathise. She was always a very academic person, most of her energy going into her scientific work; she couldn’t imagine dropping out of any kind of education. However, when she thought properly about Ann’s character as well as she knew it, she figured it made sense that the stress would get to her eventually. 

“Mm. I’m sure it was the right decision though, for you, anyway. We must always follow our hearts, or whatever people say,”

“I guess. I mean, I do enjoy art, I’m just not sure I like studying it. I don’t really like studying anything, but you know that.”

There was the first laugh. It caught Anne by surprise, making her smile in unison. Part of her mind felt it was strange to be in this situation, considering she had been Ann’s teacher at one point, but she dispelled that quickly. _There wasn't a situation,_ she rationalised. The two had met for some drinks after an impromptu Facebook conversation, it was hardly anything more than a catch up. Still, the laugh roused something within her. The sound was clear, light and playful – it was a nice noise, for certain. It made Anne hopeful, but she didn’t know exactly what there was to be hopeful about.

* * *

Although the evening went very well, the joy from the past few hours dissipated immediately when Anne reached her front door. 

There was Mariana, who looked up from her phone screen as she heard Anne’s footsteps, sitting on the doorstep. She said nothing at first, simply reaching into her jeans pocket, retrieving a set of keys. 

“Front and back door. I didn’t want you to think I was keeping them,” Mariana spoke with such a faux sweetness that it gave Anne toothache. Or maybe just a headache, her voice tended to do that to her nowadays.

“Very good.” Anne walked closer as Mariana stood up, and she took the keys from her. “You can go now, Mary.” She would have added something about Argus, but she honestly just wanted Mariana out of her hair as soon as possible. She wasn’t going to let her whole night be ruined by this.

“Is that all? Seriously?”

Anne blinked, confused.

“What do mean, _'is that all'_? What else am I meant to say?”

Mariana scoffed, looking away, then looking back at Anne. There was definitely tension in the air – the thick, heated tension of an oncoming argument. Unless one of them left the situation soon, it would all break out in the front garden.

“I just thought you’d be happy to see me, Fred,”

_"I'm sorry?"_

“Lord knows you’re probably dying for contact right now. I know you.”

That irked Anne. Both the statement and the smug look Mariana had on her face. She paused, regarding her ex with a scathing look, then pushed past her to get to the door. She had to fumble with the keys for a little bit to get the door to unlock, ignoring the complaints coming from behind her. She only turned when she felt a hand on her waist as the door finally gave way. 

“You can _go_ now, Mariana,”

“Christ, fine!”

Anne went straight to bed once she'd shut the front door, even that small interaction had left her drained.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i realise it's been like 21 days since the last update.. my mental health has been wild to say the very least, that and just general overthinking about the future has meant all my time has been spent asleep or wishing i was asleep. slowly looking up, though. hopefully.
> 
> sorry if this chapter is completely incoherent, it's like 4am here and i have no sleep medication
> 
> living the dream, folx!


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